


Caged Birds Sing the Sweetest Songs

by scandalsavage



Series: Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge [18]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Competence Kink, Damian Wayne is Strix, Earth-3, Forced Bonding, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Intersex Omegas, Kinda, M/M, Restraints, Thomas sure thinks it's sexy, Tim Drake is Raptor, Voyeurism, dick grayson is talon, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26691904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage
Summary: Talon had caught sight of the hero first. They'd fought their way through half of Gotham before Raptor and Strix joined the fray.It'd taken all three of them three more hours to corner the illusive Red Knight and get his helmet off. The surprise of the reveal had made the boys drop their defenses, just enough to allow the boy who was once their brother a small window. Which he'd taken advantage of, starting the chase over again.Fortunately for all of them, even Jason can't withstand the single-minded, relentless pursuit of the Owls.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Thomas Wayne Jr. | Owlman
Series: Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1407088
Comments: 12
Kudos: 134
Collections: DCU Rarepair Exchange 2020, Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge





	Caged Birds Sing the Sweetest Songs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forestgreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestgreen/gifts).



> I tried to get as much of the stuff you asked for in here but I don't know how successful I got it all across. The humiliation is technically really degradation but ao3 doesn't have a tag for it so I assume it's close enough lol. 
> 
> Hope you like it!!!

The scene before him wasn't entirely unpleasant, or unfamiliar. An attractive black haired, blue eyed boy, tightly bound on his knees at Thomas's feet. Rage and indignation making those irresistible eyes burn like wildfire. He loved stamping out that fire. Or rather, directing it towards his own ends.

He's done it four times now. Had absently decided he was finished, that now he could enjoy the fruits of his labor. 

A fifth taming seems superfluous. He had a roost full of little owls to do his bidding and carry on his legacy. 

But this... this was a special circumstance. 

Staring coolly down at the boy, Thomas studies him. He was supposed to be dead. He _was_ dead. Thomas had buried the body himself. A much smaller, more battered body. But definitely this boy's body. 

Thomas would know any of his boys anywhere, in any skin. 

Reaching out, he runs his knuckles lightly along the line of torn fabric tied around the boy's head, acting as a gag. Despite being on his knees, despite the training Thomas drilled into all of them, despite the conditioning to his very specific proclivities, the boy doesn't flinch, doesn't even lean into it. He just keeps glaring. 

In a smooth motion, he threads his fingers through the raven strands, giving a light tug. A promise and a threat all at once. 

"I see he gave you some trouble," the older man says flatly, turning his attention to his other three proteges. 

They look pissed, all variously battered. Richard has a black eye, cut lip, and is clutching his side. Stab wound. Nothing serious, not very deep, just enough to hurt and hinder. Timothy is cradling his right arm and from the angle, the shoulder is at least out of it's socket, maybe a fractured radius. Damian had limped into the roost, also favoring one side, arm wrapped around his middle, at least two cracked ribs, and a bloody nose. 

Talon had caught sight of the hero first. They'd fought their way through half of Gotham before Raptor and Strix joined the fray.

It'd taken all three of them three more hours to corner the illusive Red Knight and get his helmet off. The surprise of the reveal had made the boys drop their defenses, just enough to allow the boy who was once their brother a small window. Which he'd taken advantage of, starting the chase over again. 

Fortunately for all of them, even Jason can't withstand the single-minded, relentless pursuit of the Owls. 

"He's got new moves," Richard growls. "Stinks of Ra's."

Narrowing his eyes at the oldest, his pride and joy, his Talon, Thomas takes a brief moment to measure the statement. All three of them will have to be punished for what Thomas very much considers their failure. Regardless of the outcome or the opponent, no one man should be able to withstand their unified assault for as long as Jason had. Thomas would hate to have to throw insolence on top of incompetence.

All he finds is explanation though, not excuse. Richard is simply stating a fact and his professional opinion, which are almost always correct. And when he scents the air, he finds that Richard likely meant that second part literally, as well as figuratively. 

It's been two years since any of them have seen the fallen bird of prey. Two years since they put his broken, lifeless body in the ground. But Thomas has never forgotten the boy's scent, spiced honey, warm and omega. He's not one for nostalgia but smelling it now takes him back to the brash little street whore he'd taken in after the bitch had the nerve to try to steal his tires. Thomas likes nerve.

He doesn't, however, like the subtle undertone of sickly sweet rot, barely there but still all too present. The distinct scent left on those who've used the Lazarus Pits. Ra's al Ghul is the only one Thomas has ever smelled it on. Until now. 

The hero and his do-gooder daughter — whose hand Thomas can see in this clear as day; Talia is still sore he got what he wanted from her, he thinks, glancing at Damian — are going to have to answer for this. 

Absently, Thomas reaches down to pet through Jason's hair again. This time the boy does try to jerk away. Thomas just grips tighter and jerks his head back into place. 

Competing alpha pheromones peek at the sudden stretch of neck, even if the flesh is hidden beneath an obviously armored high collar. Clever. It would have been even more clever to have built-in scent blockers there too. 

In fact, that seems almost painfully obvious. Surely Talia, the only other omega hero Thomas can think of, would have taught the boy that if he wasn't smart enough to figure it out himself. Which Thomas knows that he is. 

So why can he still smell Jason?

"Don't move," he barks at the others when the realization strikes. He doesn't want them thinking they can get involved, that they won't still be punished later, but they _did_ bring home their lost omega. And that omega needs a much bigger lesson than the young alphas.

The boys frown at each other, and at him, but do as they are told, clasping their hands behind their backs to show their compliance.

Without turning his attention from Jason, Thomas waits a beat to make sure before using his free hand to pull the collar of Jason's shirt away from his throat.

Scent pours into the room, thick and warm and mouthwatering. 

In Thomas' peripheral, the other boys' nostrils flare and they shift in place. But they don't make a move toward them, so Thomas lets it slide. He knows how difficult it is to resist any omega at the best of times, let alone one like this. In this... condition.

"Oh, Jason," Thomas purrs down at his wayward pup who snarls back at him through the gag. It makes Thomas' cock twitch, nostalgia settling in again. Jason was always obstinate, always fighting, always pushing against Thomas' rules. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy punishing Jason. Showing omegas their place is always a sweeter experience than it is with alphas, and no less satisfying.

He drags his thumb over the boy's plush lower lip, savoring the warning growl he receives, before reaching around and loosing the makeshift gag.

Jason immediately spits out the wad of fabric that Raptor had stuffed into that sinful mouth, and bares his teeth.

"Don't fucking touch me," he snaps, voice rough.

Thomas just leers down at him.

To his credit, the belligerent bitch holds Thomas' gaze, blue-green eyes bright with a hateful fire. 

"Please," Thomas smirks, wrapping a hand around Jason's throat and giving a hard squeeze, enjoying the way he squirms, trying to break free, before shoving him back. "If you didn't want me to touch you, you wouldn't have allowed yourself to get caught when you're in heat."

Obviously, that's not what Jason was doing. The fight with his brothers lasted hours, and he has a good several left before his heat really kicks in. But he knows the reaction his words will get.

The growl that rumbles out of the boy's pretty throat is deep and deadly and menacing as his own. To the side, even the three younger alphas, meticulously trained by Thomas to submit only to him, instinctively flinch to bare their own necks before catching themselves. It's _barely_ noticeable, but it's more than they do for even Ultraman or Superwoman. 

Something primal overcomes Thomas then. Some ancient instinct swells in his chest, threatening to break free. He's going to let it. A fierce, wild omega who has the gall to posture like an alpha, to demand submission of his alphas... 

It has probably served Jason well in his absence, protected him from the weak and unworthy who would seek to claim him. 

But Thomas is neither weak nor unworthy. The challenge of taming his fiery pet, of re-taming his miraculously resurrected pupil, feels like a gift. Maybe he should thank Ra's and Talia. Send Jason back to them when he's been properly reminded who he belongs to. Death at the hand of the weapon they sought to wield against him would certainly be an appropriate show of gratitude. 

Producing one of his signature knives seemingly from thin air, Thomas raises his brows and steps between the omega's legs before he can close them.

"Fuck you, you sexist old bastard," Jason grunts, trying to scoot back away from his old mentor. But his arms are bound, fingertips to elbows, at his back and his ankles are tied to his thighs, he can't put any significant space between them. "I came back to stop you—"

A bark of a laugh rips it's way out of Thomas. "All by yourself?" He leans over the boy's body, a much farther reach than it used to be, and grabs him by the chin. "You didn't really think one little omega could do meaningful damage. We're an _institution._ Sure I trained you well, as well as an omega can be trained. But we're four _alphas_ and an intricate network of support staff across a criminal empire that spans the entire east coast."

Thomas scents the air a centimeter from the skin of Jason's face, grins, and flicks his wrist, slicing through the armor of the boy's shirt like tissue paper. "Not to mention," he adds, dragging the flat of his tongue over the source of the now freely flowing smell, firming his grip on Jason's chin to stop him from turning and sinking sharp teeth into whatever part of Thomas he can reach, "Your work for me was always... _caste specific_. You never stood a chance against us."

Color blooms rapidly over the omega's high cheeks, the tips of his ears, down his chest and, predictably, he starts thrashing and growling. Until suddenly he stills, realizing it's not getting him anywhere. He meets Thomas' eyes again and smirks. 

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. Looks to me like I did some damage to your precious alpha pets."

Said alphas square up and growl, scents swelling with indignation and _intent_. It's a reasonable response to the suggestion that they were bested by an omega, so Thomas will allow it. Even if Jason's words aren't entirely untrue. He'll deal with that later, for now, he knows the boys will follow his orders to stay put, and their aroused, competitive scents can only help Thomas. 

"And I _know_ I put a dent in your operations," Jason sneers. "Even if my information is off — which it isn't — I'd estimate your losses in the high tens of millions. In just the couple months I've been back."

 _That_ makes Thomas growl, low and definitely threatening. The smug look falls off Jason's face and his throat bobs enticingly, but otherwise... he barely reacts. 

Anger burns through Thomas like a lit fuse, prickling his skin, raising the hair on his neck. The insolent little bitch. The insolent little bitch who refuses to respect and submit to his alpha, who actively worked against his alpha's interests, who cost his alpha _hundreds_ of millions of dollars in blown arms deals, incinerated drug shipments, and various other interferences. 

Jason yelps when Thomas abruptly slices through the seam of his tactical pants where the fabric of each leg meets near his groin. With another more careful flick, he cuts through the tight shorts of Jason's underwear, purposefully nicking the skin beneath.

With a choked cry, Jason jerks and starts trying to get away from him again. The struggle is extremely brief, what with the way the omega is restrained. Thomas pins him easily with one hand wrapped around the boy's throat and the other pressed firmly against his abdomen. 

After one more deep breath of that heat-warmed scent, Thomas mouths at the gland producing it, just below Jason's ear. The skin here is thinner, more sensitive, and lavishing it with attention will make even the most stubborn of omegas soften, especially when he moves the hand he has low on Jason's belly — right over his womb — into the opening between the slick-wet folds to tease at the entrance with gentle strokes.

He could bite down. But he's saving that for later. He wants to restake his claim as he pushes his knot into the loosened, welcoming clutch of Jason's cunt. 

Instead he licks and sucks, occasionally applying light pressure with his teeth in a mock-threat of a bite, at the spot until his own scent, heavily concentrated in the alpha's saliva, mingles with Jason's. Slowly, he slides one finger into the tight, wet heat, finds the little rough spot inside that makes the boy's muscles tense and his breath hitch and bares down on it before quickly adding a second. 

He keeps going until he hears the omega's snarls of resistance morph into bitter, breathless, panting. Then he gifts the omega a pleased purr. 

Richard, Timothy, and Damian telegraph their surprise in their scents. They've never heard it before. Alphas don't need such soft reassurances. He's only ever purred at Jason, so that more delicate disposition was humored, to keep him firmly in hand. 

Squeezing down incrementally tighter on the boy's throat, Thomas presses his thumb against the short length of hypersensitive skin between an omega male's balls and pussy, levers his fingers in deeper, and sucks his way down the now slightly sweating, definitely _hot,_ chest. Stops when he reaches a nipple, bud already hardened in arousal, and nips harshly.

_“Ah!”_

Just that one little sound, accompanied with the sharp intake of breath, signals impending victory. Looking up confirms it. Jason is biting his lower lip, trying to keep any more noises from escaping, and his eyes are squeezed tightly shut in concentration. But his face is flushed a pretty rosy pink, and a lovely, honey smelling sweat makes his bare skin glisten in the pale light of the cave.

"You were always such a slut for this," Thomas coos into the omega's breast. "You may have grown, built up muscle like a butch bitch, but you haven't changed. Once a whore, always a whore. Play with your cunt a little and you open right up. My picture perfect omega."

The boy makes a noise that sounds like an aborted sob. "No... fuck... fuck you..."

With what must be all the strength he can summon as his mind devolves into the needy, cockslut that all omegas are at their core, the boy surges up and gives a powerful push with those impossibly thick thighs he'd grown since the last time Thomas had seen him. 

It manages to unseat the alpha, and Jason makes it a foot, maybe two before Thomas grabs what's left of his pants and tugs him back, further shredding the fabric. 

The crack of Thomas's open palm on the boy's face echoes through the cavernous expanse of the roost. The slap stuns him enough for the older man to flip him onto his front, tear open his pants all the way up his backside to the waistband. 

Jason may have bulked up, but he's still an omega at the mercy of Owlman's strength. It still feels like nothing to hike the boy's hips up, use his knees to shove the bound legs under Jason's torso to put him in a passable presenting position. 

Leaning over the hunched form, he pinches hard on the nape of the omega's neck, applies more and more pressure, almost to the point he worries that Jason will make him snap his neck, until finally a pitiful, pleading whine rips its way out from behind the boy's teeth, and the body beneath him goes limp. 

With a long-suffering sigh, Thomas takes his hard, throbbing cock in hand, gives himself a couple strokes to settle himself before lining up. 

"You _will_ submit to me, omega," he smooths one hand down Jason's spine while he guides his dick into the omega's quivering cunt, now dripping with slick from heat, from being overpowered by a worthy alpha, and, Thomas being the romantic he is, from being back with his rightful head of pack. "You _will_ remember your place."

A shaky breath, a flinch as Thomas presses against his entrance, is all he gets in the way of a response. 

And then... and then the night just keeps on giving Thomas gifts.

The head of his cock comes up against an obstruction. A soft, thin membrane. 

Groaning, Thomas pauses and presses his forehead to the small of Jason's back. He should have known. He was so caught up in having him back that he didn't think about the fact the column of the omega's neck is smooth and unmarked. The boy who jacked his tires had been an omega whore in the roughest part of town, his neck had been marked many times, each bite from an alpha client whose instincts demanded they try to override the claim. 

Thomas had bitten over every single one, dug his teeth in until the skin broke, worried at each mark until it was deeper and more binding than any of the ones that had come before. Until Jason and everyone who looked at him knew he was owned, and who his owner was.

To have the opportunity, the _right_ , to his omega's virginity? It was simply something he had never entertained. Jason was used goods before he came to the manor and then he'd died, and Thomas didn't dwell on fantasies. 

Perhaps he'll send the al Ghuls a real gift before he sends Jason to kill them. 

Then again... if he kills them, the Pits will be his and he can take his omega's virginity over and over and over again. 

His growl is a deep, possessive rumble that makes the boy shiver. 

"This is why you came home, isn't it? Even when you're being a stubborn little bitch, your body knows what you need; knows you need your true alpha to fuck you right. How long have you been alive, Jason? You could have given it up for Ra's, brought any half-decent alpha into your den to help you through your heat. But you saved it for me, didn't you?"

This time the sob isn't stifled. It slips freely from reddened, parted, panting lips. "N-no... don't... don't want y— _agh!_ "

Thomas pushes slowly at the paper-thin tissue, savoring the little whimpers of pain, until he breaks through. Then he spears into Jason, bottoming out in one, hard thrust. 

"That's just what you think, pet," Thomas huffs, pulling back slowly to feel every little twitch of those silky walls, already so tight around him, as Jason tenses. When only the head remains sheathed, he stabs in again. "Your body knew. Knew I'd want it. Knew you owed it to your alpha, the one who accepted you when you were all used up. The one who saw your potential, who honed your rough edges into something useful."

His hips snap against the omega's soft, plush ass, one hand on Jason's shoulder, the other at his waist, using both to pull the boy to meet each powerful drive. He builds up to a vigorous staccato, pounding into the omega's sweet, perfect, _unused_ cunt. Losing himself in the slap of skin against skin, the slick squelching of his cock stabbing home like a sword returned to its scabbard, the soft little _ngh_ 's and _ah_ 's every time Jason is rocked forward, the _heat_ radiating off the boy's body now.

That spiced honey scent rolling off him like waves, intensified by the subtle undertones of competing alphas arousal and frustration. 

He'd almost forgotten the other boys were there. 

Knowing that there are other viable alphas watching, knowing that they desire the perfect omega under him but are unable or unwilling to interfere, to try to take what's his... it's the cherry on top of this exceptional evening. That Jason is whining so beautifully, the occasional tear streaking down the one side of his face that isn't pressed into the cave floor, even as he starts to cant back to meet each thrust... It all amplifies Thomas' own arousal. 

He leans over the picturesque arch of Jason's spine, brushes his teeth against the scent gland on the exposed slice of throat. The left side. The side for a proper claim to an omega in this country. 

Jason makes a noise Thomas can't decipher, something between desire and protestation, but the omega is a slave to his instincts and obediently tilts his head back in invitation.

"There you are," the older alpha mutters, nuzzling the spot he's about to sink his teeth into. "My good boy."

His knot is swelling, tugging on the slick opening, forcing it to loosen more to take it. His jaw twitches with the need to bite but he won't, not until his knot pops. It's getting harder and harder to stave off his climax.

There's just one thing he needs first.

He nips at Jason's earlobe and grunts, "Come for me, omega. Show me how much you've missed your alpha's knot, how much you want it."

Almost as though he was waiting for permission, the boy comes with a shattered cry that sounds wrenched from the depths of his soul. It was always so hard for Jason to admit what he was, what he so obviously wanted to be but felt compelled to resist. But deep down there was a perfect, obedient omega waiting for the chance to blossom. It just needed the weeds pruned back by a careful gardener. 

The fresh gush of slick makes the sound of their coupling even more obscene, as Thomas keeps up the sharp snap of his hips. Even as Jason starts to whimper and tremble beneath him, the continued battering of his oversensitive cunt slowly shifting the signals of pleasure to pain. 

Thomas won't coddle him, won't tell him it's almost over when it's just beginning. Jason's heat is just starting after all, and then he'll have to be punished and the punishment will be much the same, just without the benefit of heat. Maybe once Richard, Timothy, and Damian have served their penance he will give them a reward for bringing Jason home. Even if they had allowed the omega to run them through the wringer to do it.

Jason's whimpers turn to full on sobs just as Thomas' pace falters. With a few final thrusts, stabbing hard and deep to drive in his uncontested rights, he feels his knot catch, his come spill into the space he just carved open, feels those velvety walls spasm around him, milking him for every drop of his seed.

Finally — _finally_ — he sets his teeth around Jason's scent gland and bites down, worries at the flesh until it breaks and he tastes the exquisite tang of blood mixed with spiced honey burst over his tongue. 

Few things are as satisfying as claiming an omega as one's own. A bone-deep calm settles over Thomas as his pet shivers against him, safely encompassed by the alpha's larger bulk. 

Though not much larger anymore, Thomas muses as he finally unlocks his jaw and shifts back. Shame. There's something wild and unique and dangerous about Jason's new size, an alpha who can tame and keep an omega like that is certainly one to be feared and respected. But a feral, possessive part of him will always miss the tiny, slip of a boy he plucked from the street. The way he could so easily toss the omega around. 

With one big palm splayed over the small of Jason's back and the other parting one side of the boy's ass, thumb sliding low enough to pull at the lip of that cunt so he can get a look, Thomas tests his knot. The omega makes a small pleading sound when there's not enough give, something Jason always did (too many past experiences with restless johns pulling out too soon). It's refreshing in its familiarity. 

"Richard," he barks. "In the back of the storage room there's a box with a "J" on it."

He doesn't need to look up to see the wicked smile he knows spreads over his Talon's face. Richard knows the box. He'd helped Thomas pack it up and store it, one of the few sentimentalities Thomas has ever allowed himself, and it's still going to come in handy. A good lesson to not discard things that may yet serve a purpose. 

The thought draws his attention back to his omega, eyes zoning in on where his knot abates. He won't be letting Jason off his leash until he's fully back under his control, if then. Maybe he'll keep the boy locked in his bedroom. Put a collar on him, a chain or Kevlar line bolted to the floor by the bed, just enough slack to wander around the space, use the amenities. He'd have to put a lock on his closet. A cloistered omega has no need for clothes. 

Whatever he decides, he's putting four different kinds of trackers in this boy's body when he gets the chance. 

Jason will never leave them again. 

Richard's footsteps are silent but Thomas feels the shift in air full seconds before the item he wanted is held in front of him. 

His knot is fully subsided now and he slides easily from the soft warmth of Jason's body with another obscene wet sound. Scent floods the air as slick and come drip from the omega's pussy before Thomas is able to push the fist-thick knotting plug, into the vacancy. 

"You're out of practice," Thomas reprimands. "You used to be able to keep every drop inside you even without the toys. We certainly have our work cut out for us."

Jason takes a rattling breath and presses his eyelids closed. Says something that might have been "hate you" but was too quiet and raspy to hear properly.

The plug is dry when Thomas works it into Jason's cunt but the omega is more than wet enough to handle it. Still, Jason gives a weak little jerk to try to get away from the intrusion and a very weak, broken puppy growl. 

"Take him upstairs," Thomas orders. Immediately Richard and Timothy jump forward. Each taking a bicep, they haul Jason upright, ignoring the omega's feeble snarls and pained whimpers, and head for the stairs. He doesn't miss the little matching satisfied smiles on their faces, or the way Damian's satisfaction at the omega's current state draws his lips up in a smug smirk. 

Yes, Thomas has a great deal of work to do. 

Good thing it's exactly the kind he enjoys most. 


End file.
